Saving Grace
by ShadowZone85
Summary: Khan is gone, Kirk is alive, and Bones finds himself on a five year trip into deep space. It's not exactly the vacation Bones was hoping for, but the table is about to turn for the good doctor. He'll find there is much more out there in the universe other than unexplored worlds. Summary sucks, but I PROMISE the story is better. Bones/OC


**A/N: Hello, and welcome to my first ever Star Trek fic! First off, I was never a Trekie to begin with. In fact I have never seen a single episode or movie, except The Next Generation, but that was because my dad made me. :P I had no interest in seeing the new ones until I saw the delicious Karl Urban (Bones) was in it. I now own both movies. Yes, I'm a bit smitten by Mr. Urban. Just a little. Note the sarcasm people. I LOVE him! He's so gorgeous and...and...and...ugh! I'm so flustered I can't even think right. Haha. XP Anywho, I've decided to write an OC fic revolving around Bones, so if I get some errors, or don't name something properly, don't shoot me, just drop me a line and I'll fix it.**

A big thanks to FreelyBeYourself for allowing me to use her one shot to get me started, as I had no idea where I wanted to begin in the first place. I do now! :D

Enjoy!

~S~T~  


Leonard McCoy hates space. It's too open, too mysterious. He hates the unpredictability of it; hates how, one moment, the ship could be cruising along at warp two without so much as a hiccup, and the next moment bodies could be flying all over the place as the ship tears itself apart in some sort of crazy space turbulence.

He spends most of his time in sickbay, in his office, which certainly does not have any windows, because the last thing he wants to do is look out into the vast openness of space when that same openness and emptiness is already weighing on his mind like a ton of bricks.

It's probably cruel of him that he almost looks forward to the next medical emergency. Medicine is something he is good at. When someone is lying on his operating table, Leonard doesn't have time to worry about space and the dangers of space travel. He doesn't have time to worry about the unpredictability. Medicine, he knows, is relatively predictable; he can tell you without batting an eyelash how the human body will react to this drug or that poison. He knows what to do if someone gets impaled by a hostile alien race's medieval spears, and he knows that, even with the combination of modern medicine and ancient cryotubes, his best friend should not be alive right now. It's hard to think about such things, but also comforting, too, because there is order; logic. Sickbay is his domain. He knows what will happen and he knows how to fix it before it does.

Now, if only he could have just stayed on Earth.

It's as he is pondering this that someone knocks on his door. Leonard takes a deep breath, mind already whizzing through various possibilities: it could be someone coming in to talk, but that's unlikely, because no one goes out of their way to have a conversation with a grumpy doctor like him. It could be someone with a medical problem. That one's more likely; he is, after all, the chief medical officer of the clumsiest crew ever to grace Starfleet with its service. Or, it could be…

"Dammit, Jim!" Leonard barks, exasperated, as his office door slides open to reveal his best friend, James Kirk, wearing mismatched pajamas and carrying a PADD that Leonard instantly recognizes as the one that was stolen from his desk earlier in the day. He reaches out to snatch it back, but Jim's reflexes are lightning fast, and the younger man has the device hidden behind his back just as Leonard's hand snatches at thin air where the PADD had been an instant before. For a moment the two men stare each other down, Leonard wearing an almighty scowl and Jim giving Leonard a cocky smirk that makes the older man's eye twitch in annoyance.

Finally Leonard shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and then moves back to sit at his desk. Even in his annoyance, the knowledge that he almost lost the man in front of him, forever, is not far from his mind. Leonard finds himself watching his best friend closely, trying to reassure himself that the sight isn't an illusion; that Jim is really there, and isn't going anywhere any time soon. The kid just continues to stand in the doorframe, not moving, and Leonard's eyebrow climbs a fraction as he tries to figure out what Jim is waiting for. Jim clears his throat.

"Uh… Bones, can I come in?" he asks, and Leonard thinks that he must have heard wrong, because Jim has never asked for permission to come into his personal space before. He leans forward, eyebrow climbing higher. Idly, he wonders if he looks anything like Spock. The thought doesn't bother him as much as it would have in the past, and he wonders if that means he's going crazy.

Jim is still standing in the doorway, growing visibly nervous at Leonard's lack of response, and the doctor realizes that Jim is serious; he's honestly asking for permission to come into the room. Leonard feels an illogical stab of some unpleasant emotion… his mind supplies the word fear, but Leonard isn't ready to admit that he's terrified of this newest change in his best friend; he isn't ready to admit that everything pertaining to Jim scares him these days.

"Of course you can come in, Jim," he says dryly. The younger man runs a hand through his hair and enters the room, PADD still held protectively. The Captain takes a seat on the other side of the desk, and Leonard wonders what this is about. He watches as Jim plays uselessly with the stylus on the PADD.

"Jim, why do you have my PADD?" he asks, and Jim's cocky smile reappears as the Captain relaxes in his seat.

"I wanted to annoy you," Jim answers, and the answer is so typically Jim that Leonard isn't sure whether to laugh out loud or stab a hypospray into the idiot's neck. He settles for rolling his eyes and shaking his head in exasperation.

"Sure you did, Jim. Sure you did." The two sit in companionable silence for a moment. Jim, no longer needing to use the PADD to annoy Leonard, hands it back, and Leonard checks to make sure Jim hasn't fooled with it and installed some program that will cause the device to sing Happy Birthday at the next opportunity. Finally the silence stretches for just a little while too long and the comfort of it turns gradually to tension.

"Jim, was there something you needed?" Leonard asks, not wanting to give his friend the impression that he was unwelcome, but also wanting to get straight to the point.

"Aw, c'mon, Bones. Can't a person have a conversation with his best friend?"

Leonard scowls, because that would have been the expected reaction, but inside he can't help but wonder why it's only after Jim has died and come back to life that Leonard realizes the true value of their friendship.

"Normal friends, sure. Jim, if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you don't do normal."

Jim laughs heartily, and Leonard smiles at the sound.

"The truth is, Bones, I'm here on a professional basis," Jim finally admits, and Leonard finds himself feeling surprised.

"Oh?" he asks, not sure exactly what Jim means.

"It's come to my attention that you're unhappy here," Jim says, and Leonard's confusion disappears in a heartbeat.

"It's space, Jim," he explains, and he doesn't intend for the words to be a criticism, but Jim flinches and Leonard realizes that the kid has taken it as one.

"I forced you to come up here," Jim frowns down at his hands. There is silence. Leonard knows Jim well enough to realize that now is not the right time to speak, so he waits patiently. "I forced you to join my crew and you don't want to be here. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Jim," Leonard says, and he can't bring himself to admit that it's starting to grow on him, even though he's still terrified of the endless vacuum that surrounds the ship.

Jim raises his eyes to meet Leonard's, and Leonard braces himself for what he knows is coming.

"Do you want to leave?" Jim asks bluntly, and the question hits Leonard as hard as he thought it would.

The truth is that Leonard doesn't know the answer to that. He wants to be where Jim is; he knows that much is true. He also wants to be where he could work without having to worry about his own life as well as others. It's a tough dilemma. His ex-wife had taken everything from him; that was his rationale for joining Starfleet in the first place. If Leonard is honest, though, he never intended on accepting an assignment in space. Now that he's here, living every day in terror, Leonard isn't sure that he can take another moment of it. He wants to go home, to Earth, where there is solid ground beneath his feet and real food on the table. Yet, he also knows that as soon as he leaves, he will miss the Enterprise so badly that he'll come running back to Jim, begging to be accepted back on the crew.

"Yes," Leonard answers honestly, and he and Jim flinch simultaneously. Hearing the truth out in the open like that hurts Leonard more than he expects, and he instantly knows that he's chosen wrong. Jim looks like he is about to speak, so Leonard holds up a hand to stop him. "I want to leave, Jim, but I'm not going anywhere." This surprises the Captain, he can tell.

"Bones, if you're not happy here…" Jim, uncharacteristically, doesn't pry, but Leonard knows how the question will end.

"I'm not sure, Jim," he answers. "If I ever come up with an answer to that, I'll let you know."

"Leonard," Jim says, and hearing his real name on Jim's lips sounds so foreign to the doctor that for a moment he forgets who he's talking to. "I don't want to be the reason you suffer. You hate space, and if you stay, I don't want it to be because of me."

Leonard takes a moment to consider that. Jim is a major reason that Leonard wants to stay onboard the Enterprise, but is Jim the only reason? Leonard doesn't think so.

"Jim, I want to be here," he says, the words leaving his mouth before he's even thought about what he wants to say. "This is where my family is." He isn't sure why his mouth has apparently disconnected itself from his brain, but as soon as he hears himself speak he knows that he has told the truth. Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence, but it's also excitement and friendship wrapped in loyalty and love. Leonard will not abandon his family any more than his family would abandon him.

"You want to stay on the ship as CMO?" Jim checks, asking the question as formally as possible to let Leonard know that this is a serious matter. Leonard doesn't reply carelessly.

"Yes, Captain," he answers firmly, following a gut instinct. "I want to stay on the ship as CMO."

Jim stays in his office for an hour after that, and they each drink one shot apiece of Leonard's favorite whiskey. The Captain leaves to go back to his quarters, and Leonard takes the opportunity to leave his office and walk around the ship that he has declared home. It's the middle of the night back on Earth at Starfleet headquarters, and Leonard knows he'll be exhausted when his shift starts in eight hours, but he doesn't care.

His feet carry him to the observation deck. No one is there, and he pulls up a seat by the large windows and just watches the stars, thinking about the members of his newfound family and wondering what the next day will bring. It's unpredictable on the Enterprise, and he hates that unpredictability, but his family is still there every day, like a solid rock, keeping him grounded to reality. He knows that as long as they're all together, he can do this.

Leonard McCoy hates space, but sometimes, like today, when the ship is calm and he doesn't have to pull a double shift in sickbay, he'll come up to the observation deck and just stare out at the stars. It doesn't happen often, but the breathtaking beauty of the galaxy is enough to reassure him that he made the right decision. But on this particular day, something new and foreign was picking away at his insides.

For the first time since his disastrous divorce, he felt the cruel stab of loneliness pierce his heart. In the rare moment that he actually found peace in the inky blackness of space, he found he had no one to share it with.

He sighed heavily and folded his arms. The monotonous twinkle of the stars seemed to be mocking him, taunting his realization that he was alone, and miserable. He sighed again, wondering why he decided to stay when the very thing he hates was making fun of him. What does it matter anyway? Emptiness was all he had waiting for him, and in the end, he figured he was better off alone.

But still...

Somewhere deep inside him, a small smidgen of hope still lingered, a hope that he wouldn't have to face the cruel world by himself, that someone could calm the storm that raged in his heart. But for now, he supposed, his somewhat dysfunctional Starfleet family would do. So, with one more heavy sigh, he departed from the observation deck, and headed to his quarters.

Home sweet home.


End file.
